Chapter 1
With some trepidation, Rey Johnson clicked the email open and scanned the contents. She was in! It was her first step into the future by way of the past. She squealed with glee, then covered her phone, and glanced out the door of her office. Fortunately, her assistant and the junior financial advisor were busy and hadn't heard the little cry of joy. Rey jumped up and quietly closed her door. The co-workers would think she was talking to a client, instead of jumping for joy.
Uh, not real jumping. Not like the old days when she was young and had energy and good knees. These days all jumping was strictly virtual.
Rey turned her phone over to look at the email once again. Her pending membership into the Black Spire BDSM club had been accepted. Her friend Bazine would be appropriately appalled, though Rey couldn't care less. This membership was for her and her alone. She'd spent her adult life doing shit she was supposed to do and now she was doing something for her own damn self.
The Black Spire had been listed as a new-ish club on the Fet Life newbie Discord server. Rey hadn't known what a Discord server was when she joined but found it all fascinating. And she could hide who she really was and lurk in the shadows. The reviews said the Spire was a friendly, fun place with lots of social activities and theme parties. Exactly what Rey was looking for.
Back in the day, when Rey was younger, she'd flirted with the BDSM Lifestyle way before it was popularized by bestselling novels and movies. At the age of 23, she'd visited a seedy place way out on Dort Highway, a club that her vanilla friends whispered about. It didn't look like much. When people drove by, all they saw was a badly-lit cracked concrete parking lot and a nondescript gray building. No sign. Only a forbidding steel door. Inside, the place looked like a bar-until patrons paid a huge bouncer to take the narrow stairs down to the dungeon. What Rey saw downstairs took her breath away. Tracie, a kinky acquaintance, spotted her, grabbed her hand, and pulled her into another world.
But the adventure hadn't lasted long. The State Bar, as it was known, ran into legal troubles and eventually closed.
The State Bar was already closed by the time Rey met her ex, married him, and had children. Dash Ko Konnix enjoyed a little bedroom spice-for a time. Eventually, though, he'd become disinterested in Rey, their kids, and the marriage. They never explored the BDSM world together.
Now, Dash was out of her life, the kids were grown and on their own, and Rey was free. She was also a middle-aged financial advisor with hot flashes and prescription blood pressure pills. Running a hand through her short, practical haircut, Rey wondered if she wasn't a bit out of her depth in joining a club. She closed up the email with a sigh and turned back to her list of clients.
***
The welcome email from the Black Spire sat in Rey's in-box for a day or two, while she tried to decide what to do. It included a link to a chat room where new members could talk. One night, after dinner, Rey grabbed a second glass of wine and opened her laptop. It was time to be brave. She clicked the link, created an account and username, and leapt in. Online users sent waves and welcomes. A Moderator asked her to introduce herself a little (without giving away sensitive information, of course).
Rey:
I'm Kira. I'm not completely new to the scene, but it's been a while. I'm a cishet female submissive, exploring being a Middle or Little, though I'm not into immersive age play. Just want some cuddles and a break from being in charge of everything in my existence. I'm interested in power-exchange with a Daddy Dom, who will take me to subspace.
Not totally original or amazing. Rey wrinkled her nose. She sounded middle-aged and bland. Better to be honest, though. She'd done her homework: the community put a premium on telling the truth no matter how dull and pedestrian.
She sifted through all the responses. One guy seemed very forward. Another seemed interested in a service sub to kneel at his feet. She didn't think she'd be a good match for him. She wasn't interested in total submission. She was glad to be able to continue defining her interests, even if no particular respondent popped out as a winner.
Rey politely chatted with whomever was there, asking questions, getting the feel of the community. They all seemed so young, though, talking about a Playstation game that had recently been released. It sounded like something her grown son, Jacen, would enjoy. He, his sister, Kaydel, and their friends often had game nights. For Rey, game nights meant Monopoly and Twister. For her kids, now in their late 20s, it was XBox, Playstation, Steam, or roleplaying games, like D&D.
After reading the argument over some character or another, Rey left the chatroom, perhaps a little disappointed. She wondered if the upcoming get-to-know-you Munch would be the same. Surely, there had to be some more mature people there, those who might not be comfortable in an online chatroom. By nature, Rey was someone who liked keeping up with the latest technology. Jacen and Kaydel had always shown her how to work apps and gadgets. Her job required knowledge of new financial programs and she was pretty good at understanding how to navigate the web. But not everyone in her generation felt comfortable creating accounts, jumping into new platforms, and engaging with strangers online. Some didn't know how to work their smartphones.
With a sigh, Rey swallowed the last of her wine, got ready for bed, and opened her latest paperback. She examined the signature on the inside with delight. She'd won a signed copy of the latest Daddy Dom book from her favorite author, Golden Angel. Rey dived back into the book featuring a tall, buff Daddy with hands like dinner plates and a very stern expression. Glorious. As Rey drifted off to sleep, she reminded herself that real life was nothing like fiction-and she shouldn't hope for someone like the big, dark-haired Daddy in the book. He wasn't real.
***
The day of the Munch, Rey's best friend, Bazine Netal, watched Rey poke through her closet, eyeing and then discarding quite a few outfits.
"I don't get it. You're going to meet strangers at a kink club to see if you want to sleep with them? Or worse?" Baz had been voicing variations of this sentiment since she arrived at Rey's doorstep. Rey was beginning to regret telling her friend about the club.
Rey tossed a matronly blue dress, which she didn't remember owning, onto the growing pile. It slithered off onto the floor. She grunted as she bent down to retrieve it. Her back had gotten tweaked when she'd attempted a work-out. She'd gotten out of the habit of going to the gym. Now, she was paying for it.
"Yeah. Kind of." Rey held up a pair of black work slacks. "Would these do?"
"Sure. I guess. What do you wear to an orgy?"
Rey fished through the blouses with the pants over one arm. "It's not an orgy. It's a meet-up, like a cocktail party, but they don't serve alcohol. You get to meet people face-to-face and just talk."
She held up a dark purple long sleeved blouse. "You like this color?" She pulled it up toward her face.
"Not on you. Your skin is too golden for purple. I don't know why you have that thing." Baz made a face and fingered the blouse.
Rey stuffed it back in her closet. "Because I don't know what looks good anymore."
"You've given up, like the rest of us."
"Hmm." Rey was on to other blouses. Why did she have so many and yet so few that made her happy? She was used to just slapping on something comfortable, hopefully without stains. Or donning a prim, tailored work suit, of which she had many. She found a flowing shark-bite tunic in soft orange and pink with a few swipes of sage green.
"You should give this up, too. It's just weird." Bazine stood with a small grunt.
Rey eyed her friend. "The blouse? Or the kink?"
"The kink. Blouse is acceptable. Is this munchy thing for all ages or just for people of a certain maturity level?" Baz made air quotes with her fingers.
Rey pulled the top off its hanger to shake it out. "You mean middle-aged people?"
"Aren't we looking middle age in the rearview mirror at this point?"
Rey snorted. "Speak for yourself."
Baz tucked her chin. "Look at you, girl. You're not a spring chicken anymore. You've had two kids. You can't compete with young things in 3-inch heels and black leather dresses."
Rey lowered the blouse. "I'm not trying to compete with those women." But she sounded more sure than she felt. This was a crazy idea. Rey had visions of lithe, tanned, ripped people gazing at one another with clear, sparkling eyes, looking for partners to scene with. Who the hell would want to scene with her middle-aged, rounded self?
There was a real possibility that she'd go home in defeat.
On the other hand, she'd come this far and kink knew no age limit. She hoped.
"I have to try," she told Bazine. "Or I'm going to regret it."
"Your funeral."
"Toast me at the wake," Rey retorted as she ducked into the en-suite to change.
She returned to the bedroom to stand under Baz's purse-lipped gaze. Rey twirled and arched her neck, letting the shark bite blouse swirl around her.
"Thoughts?" She wasn't going to let Bazine's frown annoy her.
Her friend's expression cleared. "Yeah, you look good."
